Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-four

At the conclusion of their presentation, members of the State Medical Examiner’s Office excused themselves, leaving Kate, Corey, and me alone in the conference room. Once again, things were about to heat up, and we needed a plan.

“What the hell do we do now?” asked Corey.

“Sam and I had better break the bad news to our respective agency heads ASAP,” said Kate. “They’d like this case to disappear quietly. Our job will be to convince them to let us continue working the investigation.”

“Go away, it ain’t,” muttered Corey. “I know Chief Hansen well and I’ve met Sloan. I think I’ll call ’em and ask to have both of you continue working the case in coordination with my office.”

I liked that idea and so did Kate. Whatever pressure he could apply wouldn’t hurt us and might help. Without question, our investigation had produced Vogue’s killer. The missing piece of the puzzle, however, was who killed Slick Watts? Only when we had the answer to that question would we fully understand the motive behind the murder of the Chairman of the Board of Pardons.

“You or somebody from your department needs to contact the Vogue family and explain what’s going on before the press gets wind of it,” I said to Kate. “Once this goes public, the mayor, and your department brass, are going to have doo doo all over their faces. They better be prepared for the shit-storm of criticism the press is likely to dump on them.”

“Serves ’em right,” snapped Kate. “We tried to get them to hold off on the press conference, but they wouldn’t listen. Now they’ll just have to deal with the consequences.”

One troubling issue I hadn’t mentioned to Kate was that whoever hired Watts for what now appeared to be the contract murder of Levi Vogue had selected a career criminal with a perfect motive for wanting Vogue dead. Who would have that kind of inside information? Maybe it was a coincidence. On the other hand, prison gangs might be able to leverage that sort of information from their own sources. Or the information could have come from somebody employed inside the system, like say, someone working for the Department of Corrections.

Our meeting was interrupted by a call on my cell. It was Patti calling to tell me that Burnham had located Watts’ prison caseworker. He’d also examined the caseworker’s file and discovered an ample supply of original handwriting samples we could use to compare to the writing on the alleged suicide note. Terry was on his way from the prison to deliver the samples.

“A couple of things need to happen with the suicide note right away,” I said. “We should have a lab technician examine it for latent prints. If Watts really wrote it, his prints should be on it. Then, Kate, let’s have one of your document examiners compare the note with the original writing samples. That should give us some answers.”

“I’m ahead of you on the first one. I asked the lab crew to examine the note for latent prints before we left Wendover. I’ll call them now and see if they’ve got the results. I can also get a priority response from our document examiners as soon as we provide them with the suicide note and the comparison writing samples.”

“Can’t beat that for service,” said Corey.

Kate called the crime lab, while Corey and I discussed what needed to happen relative to the investigation in Wendover. A crime lab team needed to return to Wendover. Corey agreed to have them process Watts’ car and hotel room. He called the hotel manager, who assured him that the room was still secure.

“Well, surprise, surprise,” said Kate. “The latent print examiner just finished with the suicide note, and guess what? The note has been wiped clean. No prints at all. Zip! None!

“For those of us who may have doubted the medical examiner’s conclusions, we all get to eat a little crow.”

We spent the last few minutes with Corey reviewing what we knew. We laid out the entire case, carefully omitting the negative character information about Vogue. That would probably have to be divulged at some point, but not now. That information would be treated on a need-to-know basis. And for now, Chief Corey didn’t need that information.

Our meeting broke up. My adrenaline was flowing. It was time to get back on the hunt.

Chapter Twenty-five

Later that afternoon, I was ushered into the office of Salt Lake City Chief of Police Ron Hansen. It was a well-appointed office with a large, formal-looking cherry desk and a high-back, gray leather chair. A black leather couch sat directly in front of the desk. Hansen directed me toward a rectangular conference table from which he would conduct the meeting.

The ego wall behind his desk was impressive. It was full, displaying framed copies of every degree and training certificate he’d amassed over a quarter century in police work. It included a picture of the chief shaking hands with a smiling President Bill Clinton.

This was a somber-looking group. Besides Chief Hansen, Salt Lake P.D. representatives included Deputy Chief Puffer, Captain Hyrum Locke, and Kate. Across the table sat my boss, Brad Ford, and me.

Locke spoke first. “We have several issues that require our immediate attention. Given that we now know Charles Watts was murdered in Wendover, and considering that the evidence amassed in our own investigation makes it a virtual certainty he was the shooter in the Vogue homicide, do we continue allocating our resources to the investigation, or do we leave the matter in the hands of the Wendover P.D., which now has primary jurisdiction? ”

That was the big question, and Locke put it on the table in record time. Kate looked concerned.

“Which leads directly to the next issue. Who is going to act as spokesperson to the Vogue family? And how much information do we give them and when? Since the investigation appears about to be resurrected, is it time we level with them about Levi’s extra curricular activities? If they find out about it from some other source, we’re toast.

“And that brings me to the last question. How do we handle the press now? The moment this hits the wire, we’re right back in the hot seat. We might be able to delay releasing the information for a few hours, or perhaps a day, but that’s about it.”

Turning to Kate, Locke asked, “Do you guys see any advantage in delaying the press release?”

“Only that we’d have a few more hours to work the case without members of the media lurking behind every tree. Actually, Sam and I have discussed the issue and we think a carefully worded press release wouldn’t hurt the investigation and might even be useful.”

“In what way?” said Hansen.

“Up until now, whoever is responsible for the murders has to be thinking they’ve gotten away with it. Let’s make them uncomfortable. Let’s use the media to send them a message. Who knows, maybe they’ll panic and make a mistake. We don’t think there’s anything to lose. We go public, explaining that the death of Watts involved foul play and is being investigated as a criminal homicide, not a suicide. We don’t need to be specific. We don’t reveal that the alleged suicide note was a forgery and has been wiped clean of prints. Let them wonder just how much we do know,” said Kate.

“Sounds all right to me,” said Hansen. “Anybody have a problem with it?” Nobody spoke. Several heads nodded in agreement.

“Let’s get back to the main issue for a moment,” said Hansen. “Do we continue this investigation using our personnel, or do we hand it off to Wendover P.D. and get the hell out of it?”

For the first time, Deputy Chief Puffer spoke. “I think we’ve done our job and done it well. I recommend we pull out. Our investigation correctly identified Vogue’s killer and found plenty of evidence to support a successful prosecution. It’s not our problem that the perp got himself killed before we had a chance to apprehend him. It’s Wendover P.D.’s problem now. Let them handle it.”

Spoken like a true wimp, I thought. The man was predictable if little else.

Hansen turned to Kate. “Lieutenant McConnell, what are your thoughts on the matter? You and Kincaid have been the ones carrying the ball on this.”

Before she had a chance to respond, Locke interrupted. “I support Clarence’s position, with one possible caveat. How would the press portray our decision to withdraw from the case and how might that affect public opinion?”

Clearly, Locke and Puffer were making a power play that put Kate in an unenviable position. She would have to make a choice to support or oppose her superiors, and risk some kind of retaliation later, if she took a position in opposition to theirs.

Locke was smart, politically savvy, and a highly capable administrator who also happened to be a ruthless organizational climber. He had never hesitated to run roughshod over others on his way up the career ladder, and he rarely missed an opportunity to pander to the TV cameras in high-profile cases. I was more than a little surprised that we hadn’t seen him at Vogue’s residence the night of the murder or at the Mayor’s initial press conference.

The lady didn’t disappoint. Glancing quickly at Puffer and then Locke, Kate shifted slightly in her seat and looked directly at Chief Hansen. “I think we’ve got a clear obligation, both practically and ethically, to remain on the case. Nobody has a better understanding of the case than we do. If we pull out now, we leave the job half-finished. Sure, we can take solace in the fact that we correctly identified Watts as Vogue’s murderer. But this investigation isn’t over until somebody finds out who’s really responsible for the conspiracy to have Levi Vogue murdered. That’s the million-dollar question. It seems inconceivable to me that we’d simply walk away and expect the Wendover Police Department to carry the case forward. They don’t have the resources or experience to pull it off.”

Locke interrupted again. “That’s not exactly true, Kate. Wendover P.D. can do what any small department in Utah can do, and that is to request assistance from the State Attorney General’s Office. They have a solid investigative staff that exists to support just this kind of endeavor. They do it all the time.”

Puffer didn’t speak but nodded his head in agreement.

“That’s true,” admitted Kate. “But let’s be honest. Everybody knows the A.G.’s Office does the best it can to support small law enforcement agencies that require assistance, but they lack experience when it comes to investigating homicides.

“The other issue we haven’t discussed is what possible reaction the Vogue family will have to our abandoning the investigation. I’d be a lot more worried about that than public opinion. Anybody care to volunteer to go out and have that conversation with Richard Vogue?” Big surprise. No takers.

The room fell momentarily silent until Hansen spoke. “Norm, where does your department stand on this issue?”

“I’ve discussed it with Sam and a couple of other people, and I think we stay committed to the investigation. I haven’t heard anything so far that makes me change my mind. Part of the role of the Special Investigations Branch is to assist state and local law enforcement in just this kind of situation. If Watts’ murder had occurred across the state line in Wendover, Nevada, I’d pull Kincaid and his troops off the investigation immediately. But that’s not the case. Besides, I received a call from Chief Corey earlier today, specifically asking that the SIB continue to provide assistance to his department.”

“I got the same call,” said Hansen. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. Clarence, you and Hyrum make immediate arrangements to see Levi’s widow and explain the latest developments in the case. Tell her that we intend to continue our investigation, working in conjunction with the SIB and the Wendover P.D. Say nothing to her about her husband’s philandering with the stripper. I’ll have our public information officer draft a carefully worded press release. We’ll delay its release until you’ve visited the family. Questions anyone? Good! Then let’s get on it.”

Chapter Twenty-six

After the meeting, Kate and I dropped down two floors to a small suite of offices where the sign on the front door read
Checks & Forgery
. The duty secretary handed Kate a one-page report summarizing the results of the handwriting analysis that compared the suicide note against writing samples belonging to Charles Watts. The examiner concluded that the suicide note was not written by Charles Watts, and thus was a forgery, albeit a high-quality one. The document examiner promised to provide us with a list of skilled Utah forgers early the next day.

***

Kate and I walked together to the public safety building parking lot. “So where do you think this leaves us, Sam? Any ideas?”

“I wish I knew. It’s damn frustrating. I do think we can eliminate a couple of our early theories.”

“Yeah? Which ones?”

“For one thing, any notion we had that Vogue was the victim of a random killing because he blundered into a burglary at home no longer makes sense. It doesn’t jive with Watts’ homicide being staged to look like a suicide.”

Kate shrugged. “It always was an unlikely possibility. Besides, Vince worked his tail off with our burglary dicks on that angle and came up empty.”

“The other theory we can probably toss is the prison gang connection. When you consider how Vogue was killed, it had all the trappings of a gang-style hit. Combine that with Vogue’s occupation, and it seemed like a good fit. But here’s the problem. Most of the gangs are organized along ethnic lines, blacks with blacks, whites with whites, Latinos with Latinos. Slick Watts wasn’t ever a gang banger. We ran his name through every gang database available. He wasn’t involved with skinheads, straightedgers, bikers, white supremacists, none of the Caucasian gangs. And if the killing was gang-ordered, the perp would’ve been an active gang member or a gang member wannabe.

“And another thing. In the unlikely event a gang hired Watts to do Vogue and then decided to eliminate Watts, they wouldn’t have staged it to look like a suicide. He’d have gotten whacked just like Vogue in some kind of drive-by or street hit. That’s their signature. It’s how they do business,” I said.

Kate sighed. “That leaves Sue Ann Winkler, the Starlite Motel, and the prostitution ring John Merchant talked about when he was singing at the hospital. I’ve had the feeling that there’s still something bothering you about that whole mess.”

“I know I’m probably grasping at straws, but yeah, something is bothering me. We know that Vogue was involved in some unusual sexual practices—group sex and voyeurism for starters. Just who is the guy Sue Ann told us about, the mystery man with the tattoo on his arm that Vogue brought back to the motel for the three-way action? We’ve never identified him. Is it possible that Vogue was killed because he learned something about that place he wasn’t supposed to know? I think we should lean all over everybody associated with the Starlite Motel until we determine whether they had anything to do with his murder. I know it’s a long shot.”

She shrugged. “It’s hard for me to reconcile the notion that a prostitution ring would get involved in contract murder. It doesn’t make sense unless they’re involved in something else a lot more sinister. I think it’s a long shot, but no, I don’t have any better ideas at the moment.

“In the morning, I’ll have Vince pull their business license and any incorporation papers that may exist, and see what our vice people know about the place. It might be worthwhile to have a couple of teams set up visual surveillance near the motel for a few days and monitor the traffic going in and out. If the motel is a front for an organized prostitution ring or maybe a drug house, there ought to be plenty of people coming and going at all times of the day and night.

“The best shot we’ve got right now is to try to identify the guy who wrote the suicide note. He’s our direct link to whoever hired Watts to kill Levi. I’ll get the list from the forgery guys in the morning. Then we’ll start running people down. That okay?”

“Fine,” I replied. “I’ll send an e-mail to every probation and parole officer in the state soliciting names of any first-rate forgers. We’ll probably end up with some of the same people, but it should give us a fairly complete list.”